


Venery

by Everett_Harte



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Will, why yes Will Graham is also an Addams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:44:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1958907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everett_Harte/pseuds/Everett_Harte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Venery (noun): 1: A historic term for hunting, the hunted animal itself. 2: the pursuit of or indulgence in sexual pleasure.</p><p>Will Graham was considered an unusual Omega by most.  How fortunate he came across Dr. Lecter, a strangely atypical Alpha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: A Primer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sku7314977](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sku7314977/gifts).



> Oh look, Morticia Addams wrote an op-ed for 'The Baltimore Sun'. I wonder what it's about.

**Old World Tactics: A Primer**

**By: Morticia Addams née Frump**

 

There has always been a keen interest on what is often designated as “Old World Tactics”.  It’s typically treated as something that needs to be learned, but I feel that it’s something that we all innately know but are told to suppress.  And such a shame it is, for did not Shakespeare write in _Hamlet_ , ‘to thine own self be true’?  As our society has progressed into civilization, there have been attempts to control natural behavior with laws.  And laws are certainly good guidelines; how else would we function with so many new modern factors in play?  But there is a reason why some laws are only encouraged, not enforced.  Biology is something that we cannot deny; nor can we deny each other’s rights to free will and the decisions that can entail.  However, to discuss Old World tactics, one must first look at all factors.  Designations and the biological imperatives for heat and rut are topics people find unsavory to discuss in polite company, but need to be if one wishes to understand.  Old World Tactics are as follows:

1)  Dominance Fights

2)  Mating Rights   

3)  Omega Test/Bonding

4) Other Traditional Acts

Nowadays, there is often more emphasis put on the courtship aspect of relationships, the period of simply meeting and dating.  This wasn’t always so.  To understand Old World Tactics, one must look to Alphas first.  They are certainly more dominant, the type A personalities as it were.  Levels of aggression are also higher, but one should take care not to necessarily treat them as overtly dangerous.  People are people, even if they have different personalities.  But I digress; the main course of Old World Tactics is said to be mating rights.  And for that to occur, Alphas must fight, perform acts of dominance.  This is still seen often in our modern society, from the passive aggressive to full on brawling, there is an innate sense to discover a hierarchy.  In more traditional times, the mating rights went to the victor.  But what is often not disclosed in the romanticized version of Old World Tactics portrayed in popular media, is that acts of dominance may only lead to a bruised ego, fights of mating rights almost certainly lead to grave bodily harm, if not death.  And this is often the case because of the presence of the Omega.

This is the area where most people tend to get befuddled.  The Omega is a designation that is typically the most relevant to Alphas.  The two don’t necessarily need the other, but may find themselves pulled to each other.  The Alpha-Omega pairing may be considered more traditional, but other pairings are no less valid.  Old World Tactics is instinctually based and if you take nothing else from this, then do accept your own instincts and what draws you; ‘To thine own self be true’.  Any various pairing can bond in the terms of achieving a physical and mental connection, not simply a legal one.  However, the strongest bonds are often formed from Alpha-Omega pairings.  Pheromones are tied quite deeply into the biology of Alpha and Omega brains, bonds forming after recognizing compatibility and neurotransmitters changing to accommodate a mental bond.  Something I always found terribly romantic; a brain restructuring itself for love.

The Omega is most relevant to Old World Tactics for mating rights.  Many believe this to be simply two Alphas fighting, a typical storyline used in popular media.  But the true name for that is the aforementioned dominance fight.  The likelihood of death of an Alpha rises greatly in the presence of an Omega.  These fights for mating rights are differentiated by Alphas fighting for the rights to the Omega, rather than posturing.  This is typically done for the right to court.  But what many forget is that mating rights are not simply an Alpha’s territory, they are an Omega’s as well.  The typical death of an Alpha during mating rights is not restricted to only another Alpha, but can be at the teeth of an Omega.  For who would bond with someone they had not tested for themselves?  The key reason to this was traditionally, this was the first moment an Omega met a potential mate; why would an Omega allow a bond to form without first proving themselves powerful in their own right? 

Old World Tactics may be considered barbaric to those that consider themselves civilized, but there is a reason that they are still followed today by traditionalists.  Following such tactics allowed for a greater sense of equality in Alpha-Omega pairings.  Heats and ruts left both in vulnerable states, but the tone of the courtship allowed for a proper rapport to be established before mating.  Bloodshed can be one of the best bonding moments for couples; an instinctual callback to our days before even Old World Tactics were in play, back when we killed or were killed.  Some say we even killed prey together.  These are reasons these practices are romanticized.  What could be more romantic than two suitors fighting for the right to court, a primordial dueling?

The end game to this is often said to be courtship, but in truth, it is mating and bonding.  This marriage of mind and body, the intangible bond connecting two people.  If pheromones are often an indicator for compatibility, then their increased presence during heats and ruts are instrumental in encouraging a bond, a biological response to secure a compatible mate. 

Numerous other traditional acts, often performed by older families are often lumped into the umbrella term of Old World Tactics.  Most of these are region or family specific.  They are often fodder for gossip and should be taken lightly.  One of the more prevalent ones is that Alphas defeated in dominance or mating right fights are eaten.  How ridiculous. 

As if someone would eat them _raw_.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this has been amazing! Thank you all so much!

There was nothing wrong with him, his father assured him countless times.  And even after his mother died and later, his father, when he felt so alone, he held onto that.  _There is nothing wrong with being picky William.  You’re lucky to know what you want at such a young age.  Whoever you choose will surely be something special._

And it wasn’t exactly that he disliked the idea of having a mate, he just knew that he wanted to pursue his schooling and later, career and get established.  Lots of well-meaning teachers and counselors had pulled him aside and asked him why he didn’t date.  And it wasn’t that they were overly assured that he would choose an Alpha; many had even encouraged him to join the Gender and Sexual Diversity club or experiment with dating different designations.  There had been nothing worse than getting love advice from teachers and professors and having to sit in their classes awkwardly the rest of the semester.

But what Will had never really mentioned to anyone was that what he scented off his classmates was too telling to him.  The _joie de vivre_ health teachers had explained at scenting compatibility was severely lacking.  He felt no rush of affection or lust when he scented Alphas, nor Betas or other Omegas.  He could catalogue the designation pheromones, but the ultimate underlying scent told him too much.  He scented moods and health over simple compatibility.  He had even been tested when he was younger for olfactory abnormalities, but he had been able to identify every scent presented as well as designation normally.  It was later when he was diagnosed with an empathy disorder that it made some sense.  It wasn’t the Alpha, Beta, or Omega scents he had trouble with, it became a matter of taste and he didn’t find them tasty.  Will simply didn’t care for what he scented in others.  Combined with what he could see beyond a person’s veneer, and Will was convinced he would remain unmated.   

That wasn’t to say he found all scents unpleasant.  He loved his parents’ scents.  Will especially coveted his mother’s; a half remembered Alpha scent, underlaid with old blood and the lotion she rubbed onto her scars to keep them from itching.  She had been older when she met his father, already battle worn from asserting her dominance in her career and among her peers.  His father had told him she came from an especially traditional line that favored Old World conflict-resolution.  Something he learned more of as he grew up. 

And there was something to be said about Old World Tactics.  They hadn’t necessarily fallen out of favor, but were romanticized and perhaps not considered practical.  But that wasn’t to say people didn’t stop and watch when a mating dispute came up.  What was often said about Old World Tactics was ultimately they were bloody, but rather romantic.  Who didn’t like the idea that someone would kill for them?  Deep down, past the societal constructs that discouraged such behavior, sometimes you couldn’t help your own biology.  Heats and ruts still persisted; a civilized world where people could be induced into hormonal hazes.  What was one step further?  His mother had been well known for ripping the throats out of those that had challenged her and Will’s father had often said she had done the same to anyone that so much as looked at him wrong when they courted.  Will wasn’t sure on that, but the love he saw in his father’s eyes when he said it proved something.  He and his father had retreated to the Addams manor several years after her death.  Will learned more about what traditional actually meant, and that his mother’s distinct scent of old blood wasn’t nearly as rare within her family.  Later, when his father died, that would be comforting to him.  His Aunt and Uncle were warm and welcoming to him, but Will sometimes wished so badly that his parents were still alive.   

He had very few memories of his mother.  Her scent was the most prominent, but other than that, he mostly remembered her encouraging him to fight back against those that tried to curb him.  The family motto was often whispered into his ear, _Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc,_ We gladly feast on those who would subdue us.  Will took those words to heart as well and never forgot them or his concealed weapon permit and gun.  He had been to enough domestic disputes as an officer to make him want to finish off any Alpha trying to claim him.  Dating was typical and more common than traditional methods, but love was still a volatile emotion.  Will always thought mating was a terrible business, too many hormones and pheromones to keep a clear head once tied to someone.  Civilization brought with it more attempts to improve society, but even then, the old laws remained because so many fell back to them during emotional moments.  Civility could ultimately only ever be encouraged, never enforced.  And sometimes, the more vicious instincts would still prevail.  

And Will had found he was caught in a bit of a catch-22 being from an older more traditional family.  He seemed to attract those that found that appealing.  He liked to dispute mating rights before they progressed too far; preferring to disrupt rather than wait until a suit was presented to reject.  He fought off many prospective mates with his harsh words and demeanor, those that were a little too persistent were shot.  Though there were still those that thought he was simply playing hard to get; they met a separate no less bloody end.  One would think this would make him unappealing, but as Jack had told him, it was simply his bad luck he was the best.  Who didn’t want something no one else could seem to have?  Will Graham certainly had an infamous reputation that preceded him.  Even the more traditional families still tried to foster ‘good relations’ with him.  His Aunt had even mentioned that several families had inquired about possible betrothals which she quickly squashed. 

‘The nose knows, William.  How else would you find your mate?’  

His work at the FBI and his consulting made his life fulfilling.  Even if there were laws that allowed for what was considered justifiable killings; those that were in defense of yourself or partner or even in contention of a mate, there were still other murders to solve.  There were still those that killed their partners over petty disagreements, those that killed just to kill, and even serial killers.  It certainly was Will’s bad luck he was the best, but at least he was doing some good. 

And if sometimes he felt lonely, he told himself his dogs and family were enough.

 

*****

 

Will’s Aunt Morticia called him later in the week.  He enjoyed speaking with her since she reminded him of what he remembered of his mother: kind, proud, and deadly.  She updated him on family matters, and wondered if he had seen anything lovely.  Will explained the latest crime scene, suspected from the Chesapeake Ripper.

“Oh he sounds darling, Will.  You must introduce us.  He’s a true artist and you know how your Uncle is always looking for new pieces.  Perhaps he could make an installation.”

He gave a chuckle, “We don’t know who he is I’m afraid.”

She cooed, “A shy one, how sweet.”

It was true.  There wasn’t any physical evidence nor was there a scent to catch at any of the scenes.  Their killer was particularly tricky and that intrigued him particularly. 

He blamed it on his Addams’ blood.

“Sweetling, I do have a favor to ask.  Your Uncle and I made a large donation to a hunger relief event, but are unable to attend.  Your cousin Wednesday has a school play and it happens to fall on the same night.  Do you think you’d be able to attend in our stead?”

He smiled, never able to ever deny his lovely Aunt anything.  “Of course.  I’ll do the Addams family proud.”   

“I never expected anything less.”  Will could hear the smile coloring her tone.  He did so love his Aunt.

 

*****

 

He dressed in a tuxedo with the least amount of dog hair, styled his hair as best he could, and left his glasses at home.  Will knew his Aunt would look at the society page the next day and carefully scold him for hiding his lovely eyes.  She did love the shade of blue, comparing it to the milky blue of a week-dead corpse.  His Uncle Gomez said he inherited it from his great grandmother, who was said to have pulled herself out of her coffin after being buried for 6 days.  She had only been mostly dead, not fully apparently.

There wasn’t much he was expecting beyond Alphas trying to vie for his attention; the Addams name held a certain weight to it.  He kept his gun on a shoulder holster, hidden rather elegantly by the lines of the tux.  Will heard the whispers as he entered, the vicious Omega with the brilliant mind.  Half of them were convinced he was a killer himself, outside of mating disputes.  How uncouth.  And what bullshit.  His best bet was to sip his champagne and attempt to make small talk with various family business partners and ignore any talk of when he was going to settle down.

When finally asked the question pointblank, he gave his best society laugh, “There’s nothing wrong with being picky.  We Addams’ do know when we have found our perfect match; the nose knows.”   

Carefully excusing himself, he made his way over to the appetizer table, hoping something would settle his stomach.  All that champagne and social maneuvering made him rather famished.

He could smell the desperation and lust before he saw him, a rather arrogant Alpha thinking he could catch Will and claim him with a few choice words.  Never mind that his scent was ripe with opiate abuse and the sour scent of deception.

“Well, Mr. Addams---”

“It’s Mr. Graham Addams if we’re being proper _sir_.”  Only Will could add such bite and vindictiveness to such a polite term.

That seemed to slightly throw off the Alpha, probably used to Omegas that acted receptive or demure in high society to initiate mating rights.  “Mr. Graham Addams, it’s quite a pleasure to make your acquaintance.  I’m---”

“I don’t care.  I know you’re looking for a mate and I’m not interested.  Your scent is unappealing to me _sir_.”  And Will turned away in dismissal, placing his empty glass on the table, prepared to walk away.

He felt a sharp hand grip his left shoulder, fingers digging in sharply, “Look, you fucking Omega---”

And Will acted quickly, his hand reaching into his tuxedo jacket to his gun.  He pulled it out, crossing his right arm over his chest, aiming it behind him before he fired.

Will took a moment to enjoy the sharp cry as the hand dropped from his shoulder.  The Alpha staggered away, putting pressure on his own shoulder to stop the bleeding.

“F-fuck.  You crazy bitch!”

Will turned around, gun still in hand.  “You really should refrain from such language _sir,_ it’s terribly rude.  And I’m afraid no one taught you correct manners.  When someone isn’t interested you move on, especially around those that follow Old World Tactics.  Leave me alone or the next bullet goes in your skull.”

He holstered his gun, taking a moment to smooth out his tux, before wandering into the seating area, leaving the reception hall and all its gossip.

Will didn’t notice the pair of burgundy eyes that followed his trek eagerly.

 

*****

 

The performance was lovely.  Although Will was never one for opera, he could appreciate the talent.  It also gave him momentary peace from his societal obligations and similarly arrogant Alphas from trying to sniff after him.  But he anticipated meeting his Aunt and Uncle the next day for tea; they so did love a bit of violence to spice up a formal event.

The after party was worse than the cocktail hour.  Will frankly found being sociable exhausting.  He had large groups eager to talk to him, asking about his family and discussing their various holdings.  Those that thought they were slyer tried to ask how many Alphas he’d killed over mating rights.  He’d rebuffed them by saying it was terribly rude to kill and tell.  It had the desired effect of frightening off the more skittish conversation partners.

Will moved off from one group and would have headed over to the large group of lawyers discussing capital gains taxes if he wasn’t intercepted.  He would have brushed it off as another Alpha hopeful to catch his attention, when the oddest thing happened.  His attention was caught.

The scent was vaguely familiar.  It was warm with a fading bloom of old blood.  It was a scent that reminded him of his mother but at the same time was so vastly different.  There was an undertone of musk that could be nothing other than male.  All other Alpha scents paled in comparison; for once he wasn’t distracted by other details.  This was a scent he could find no fault in.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your use of Old World Tactics.  So few use them correctly anymore, it was refreshing to see them utilized.”

And oh, what a specimen.  Tall, sandy blonde hair, and an impressive shoulder to hip ratio; he was the paradigm of a perfect Alpha male.

“The laws are rather loosely interpreted.  It seems nowadays, anytime Alphas get drunk and fight, the excuse of defending mating rights is brought up, even if there are no Omegas around.  It’s more dominance displays then anything.  It does get tiring, the term used in the wrong situations.”  Will managed to gather his thoughts in time and was grateful not to have made a fool of himself.

“I wonder though, you used a weapon.  Do you always?”

“My mother often used to rip out the throats of her opponents.  I’m familiar with the technique, but am saving the more hands-on fighting for when I find an Alpha I like.  I need to see their worth, and what better way than between my teeth.”

That appeared to have stuck a cord with his mysterious Alpha.  If Will wasn’t mistaken, his pupils had dilated drastically.

“May I have your name?”

“Will Graham Addams.  And yours sir?”

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

“Ah.  I can see why you’re such a close follower of Old World Tactics.  The Lecter family is an old house.”

The Alpha appeared to preen at the recognition before responding.  “As is the Addams family if I’m not mistaken.”

“We do; some members follow more closely than others.  Much like yourself.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”  A cautious look appeared in those lovely burgundy eyes.

And Will really loved how this night was shaping up.  It wasn’t nearly as boring as other events he had attended.  Not only had he disputed a potential mating, he seemed to find someone that was worthy of his time. 

Will glanced through his lashes, for once feeling the urge to act coy.  How novel.  “I can smell it on you.  My mother had the same scent.  Few encounter it anymore and can identify it.”

The Alpha stiffened, the first act that broke the lovely demeanor of his.  “And what is that?”

Will smiled sharply, “You eat your opponents.  Or perhaps prey.  Either way, you have a faint scent of old blood about you.  The scent of a cannibal.”  He took a delicate sniff, feeling his own pheromones wafting up in response.  “It’s a truly lovely scent and all others pale in comparison.”

Dr. Lecter looked truly dangerous, an Alpha prepared to kill.  Or perhaps mate, it was hard for Will to determine.  The dilation of his pupils left his eyes as two dark pools, mirroring his bloodlust.  Or perhaps just regular lust.  Hmm. 

“Mr. Graham Addams, I wonder if you would be amiable to dinner?”

And Will couldn’t help but smirk, “As long as I’m not on the menu Doctor or I’ll have to show you why the Addams family is such a power house in the business world.”  He leaned forward, as if imparting a secret, “We shoot you in the back for fun, and in the face because we want to.”

“Perhaps not the entrée, but the dessert.”  The corresponding smile showed just enough teeth that Will wasn’t entirely sure if it was an innuendo or an actual threat.

But he’d love to find out. 

Will fished out one of his business cards.  He rarely gave any out but for this Alpha, he would even make it a token.  He ran the card along the inside of his wrist, rubbing against the scent glands located there before handing it over.  It was an older tradition, giving tokens to potential suitors, imbued with scent pheromones as a reminder.  His Grandmother had said it was done more often to drive the suitor near mad with a hint of scent and best done if followed by no interaction for a few days.  A tried and true tactic for ensnaring prey, for what else was a potential mate?

Dr. Lecter took the business card with deliberate gentleness, rubbing his thumb on the cardstock, along the printed name.

“William Graham, Special Investigator and Academy Instructor,” the doctor’s eyes flicked up, “I see you work under a shortened name.  Is it because you refuse special treatment or is it because you don’t wish to reflect poorly on the Addams family name?”

Will allowed one of those sharp smiles he reserved for those that tried to curb him to slip out.  He knew it had the potential to be unsettling, for what was worse for an Alpha than an Omega near violence? 

“I think, you’ll find Dr. Lecter, that your _charm_ may work on others but not on me.  Don’t think you can push me to react how you see fit.  In fact, get back to me about dinner plans when you’re willing to at least act civilized.”

And with that, Will left the Doctor stunned.  He gave his last farewells to various family business partners and went through the doors without sparing a glance.  It wasn’t too difficult to trace the rising Alpha pheromones as he left after he had the scent of Dr. Lecter memorized. 

As his Grandmother said, it was best to ignore an interesting Alpha for a few days to turn them into an interested one.  And what better way to incite action then to leave on ‘bad’ terms?  Will Graham Addams fully expected Dr. Lecter to call upon him, whether for the dinner invitation or in a murder attempt; he wasn’t fully sure.  Both had the potential as foreplay.  Either one could end in a fight and Will wanted the taste of blood to stain his mouth for days.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll see what Hannibal's thoughts were next chapter. And we'll be meeting Morticia and Gomez for tea! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I've been working on other stories as well.

Social convention often left Hannibal Lecter at the mercy of his social invitations.  While he had made large charity donations, he really hadn’t expected attending an event.  He found simpering Omegas and tedious Betas trying outside of his own dinner parties, where he could carefully craft the guest list.  Over compensating Alphas all trying to establish their social standings in high society were only moderately interesting; he mostly enjoyed observing the petty disagreements escalate into dominance fights.  High society did not simply elevate such behavior, most favored an older form of handling issues since older families did; the _nouveau riche_ emulating their perceived betters.  But he had heard the event organizers had been able to secure supreme soprano and tenor singers and Hannibal couldn’t refuse the invitation under such temptation.

It had been as bad as he expected, Omegas tried their best to woo him or gain his interest.  He only counted a victory when he managed to escape to speak with his colleagues.  The cocktail hour was a thinly veiled attempt to match make in the higher social circles, something he found no true interest in.  He unfortunately had a hyper developed sense of smell that rendered most pheromones to be completely unappealing.  The only few he had been able to scent properly were those of his family, of which he had an awkward attempt to woo his aunt as a teenager, confusing familiarity to attraction.  Omegas tended to have light, airy scents.  Wisps of innocuous things typically overrode any pheromones before Hannibal could truly scent them.  He had gone to a specialist as a child once his sense of smell was found to be lacking in pheromone detection, and was tested.  With his hyper sense of smell, he had the tendency to smell the most overbearing scents that overlaid the natural: perfumes, what people ate last, laundry detergent.  Most pheromones were too covered for him to scent.

His family had been rather devastated to find that since he was unable to scent Omegas in a typical fashion, the likelihood of him mating was greatly decreased.  Pheromones were still one of the biggest indicators of compatibility; if Hannibal could not scent possibilities, he wouldn’t be able to properly bond.  The Alpha mind was still hard wired to biology; if he couldn’t trigger an olfactory mating response, he’d wouldn’t be able to connect himself to anyone.

Hannibal had of course been devastated as a child.  His chances were slim of ever finding a much coveted mate he had looked forward to based on his parent’s example of a happy relationship.  He had always wanted someone that would understand him after his mother had explained what it had been like to first scent his father during a party.  She had simply been chatting with some of her cousins, when she had caught a whiff of pheromones that had felt right to her, she sought him out and started up a conversation that was as if they had spoken for years.  Hannibal wanted to speak to someone like that; someone that would know and understand him as much as he would his mate.  For it to be a faded possibility was only first of the many tragedies in Hannibal’s life.  With his parents and sister dead, Hannibal was an heir with very little chance to find a mate, his last chance at a true connection. 

He found the evening as tedious as any other.  He’d learned to filter out the distracting scents of dry cleaning chemicals and perfumes and colognes.  Hannibal could faintly scent the various designations as he passed; the scents of Alphas and Betas near repugnant in their density.  It was the Omegas he could only scent by brief snatches of pheromones, something he found no interest in nonetheless.  He knew what they smelled like, flowery notes, sometimes a hint of citrus; overall hints of light scents that didn’t trigger any olfactory response from him.  He typically never caught more than a hint of one while out.

Until now.

He could more taste it than smell it, a soft scent at the base of his tongue.  Hannibal couldn’t identify any specific notes besides something vaguely tea like, but he had it faintly to memory now.  As he moved through the room, speaking with various society friends, he followed the scent as he tracked it.  For once, it wasn’t nearly impossible to track the faint pheromones of an Omega, even in a room of people.  He needed to see this person.

It was typical that as he finally caught a glimpse of the spectacular specimen, tall and lean, soft curls and a lovely jaw line, he was beaten to catching him alone.  The subpar Alpha was ridiculous and Hannibal readied himself for a fight of dominance, perhaps even escalating into a mating rights dispute, already feeling the flesh between his teeth; that worthless blood sprayed at the Omega’s feet.  But before he could engage, the Omega quickly struck, shooting swiftly and without hesitation as the other Alpha attempted to stop him from leaving. 

And Hannibal felt like this what may have been what his mother had felt like when she met his father.  When he saw the competent manner of the Omega as he strode off, he noted the pheromones were intensified by the scent of fresh blood. 

The Omega was a follower of Old World Tactics.  They may have been falling out of favor in society at large, but they would always be something that reminded him of his family.  He thought his mother would have approved of such efficiency, casually asserting dominance and returning to civility.  She had always told him, ‘We may be domesticated animals Hannibal, but we’re still animals at heart’. 

Hannibal may have felt not a small bit in love. 

During the performance that he had looked forward to and braved the crowds of those that he felt were beneath him, he found himself scenting the air, hoping to catch the scent of the Omega he couldn’t see.  It was fitting that when he did, he first caught the scent of fresh blood, the undertone of Omega finally distinct from a room of overpowering scents.  It was heady and felt rich, not light at all; a succulent fruit surrounded by a room of rot.  The sweetness felt delicate as it wafted, and he greedily hoarded the scent to memory. 

The cocktail hour provided him with another opportunity.  He cut through groups, made quick conversation with colleagues as he tracked his Omega through the room.  But he wasn’t the only eager to talk with him; groups kept speaking with him and Hannibal could hear soft gossip about how this could have been another dead Alpha if he had been inclined.  Feeling better about his apparent choice, he finally managed to catch him alone as he moved toward another group.

And while he may have thought the encounter started off well, it was how quickly the Omega, Will Graham Addams, identified him as a cannibal.  It had startled him and just as quickly, he was at war with his instincts, something that had rarely happened since he had reached adulthood.  He wanted to pursue courtship, but found his rational mind wanting to quickly end Will’s train of thought.  Hannibal had never encountered anyone that could detect a scent of cannibalism, if it was well-known, there would undoubtedly be questions asked of the doctor.  Old World Tactics could explain away the stigma attached to biological imperatives, but the prevalence of a cannibalism taboo still remained in society at large.  For it was considered an unnatural act, to eat one’s own kind, no matter how unworthy they were of life.  Hannibal could admit that perhaps he replied too reactionary, but as his instincts started to override his rationale thought, he wanted to facilitate some form of resolution.  This Will Graham Addams, when faced with a predator of known violent tendencies, faced him, even presented him with a token.  The concentrated scent nearly threw him into a rut, the soft sweetness something he finally could smell wholly. 

When faced with the dilemma of instinctual or rational response, Hannibal acted in the way that he had most of his life.  His cold rational attempts to manipulate Will into a state where Hannibal could achieve the upper hand back fired spectacularly. 

As he saw the only Omega he felt could have ever been his leave, his change in demeanor was palatable to those around.  Many left his path and gave him an impressive amount of personal space.  His aggression rose as he carefully tucked the business card into his tux.  Smoothing out the wrinkles, he returned to cut through the crowds, prepared to redirect his rage into something constructive.  It was time to restock his pantry.  And what better way to work out his fury than on those he saw lesser than himself. 

An Alpha was on the hunt, for meat and his mate.  Perhaps one in the same if he had to protect his best interests.               

 

*****

 

The battle of heart and mind was not one he was unfamiliar with.  As he walked to the valet out a side entrance, he found that the crisp evening air was enough to soothe his bruised ego.  Leaving earlier than most of the other guests left him with a peaceful walk. 

Until he heard hurried steps behind him, a harsh voice called out, “Hey asshole, that Omega’s mine.  Back the fuck off.”

Turning, Hannibal noted it was the unremarkable Alpha from earlier in the night.  His tux was still bloodstained but he appeared to have been treated onsite, bandages peeking through his neckline. 

“From what I saw, that Omega rebuffed you.  The best course of action would be for you to leave.  I won’t leave this challenge unattended simply because you’re injured.”

Instead of making the rational choice, something this Alpha seemed to lack, he stalked forward.  “I’d like to see you fucking try Old Man.”

Well, he had tried to be polite.  But sometimes words could only go so far and while it would only be a hint to what Hannibal needed to calm the rage within him, he’d take it.  Setting aside his coat on the driest area of sidewalk, the doctor lunged quickly.  He grabbed sharply onto the Alpha’s injured shoulder, digging his fingers in deeply to cause a surprised cry of pain, before he sunk his teeth into the neck of his opponent and ripped.

It was over far too quickly.  Hannibal nearly lapped at the blood smeared across his lips.  Thinking for a moment and knowing that he could assuage his curiosity while at the same time keeping an eye on Will Graham Addams, he took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped the blood off his face before tucking it away.  Picking up his coat, Hannibal called the police, reporting a ‘dominance dispute.’

While he was no stranger to making bodies disappear, it would be easiest for courtship to continue if Will knew Hannibal was quite interested.  As the police cars pulled up, the doctor suffered the indignity of the cheek swab, capped and added to a reactionary solution that turned a bright blue at the presence of high levels of testosterone.  A similar swabbing was done with the dead Alpha, one officer having to hold the nearly severed head up for another to reach the mouth.  The throat and soft tissue underneath the jaw was a mess of blood and torn tissue. 

The same blue color was indicated as the swab was capped and tested.

The testosterone testing had been implemented to try and curtail the use of escalated dominance fights as a cover for simple murder.  The best indicators that could be found for actual dominance fights were high levels of testosterone present in the systems of both opponents.  Even in death, levels were still high hours after.  It may not have been a foolproof system, but a civilized society liked to enjoy the façade of rules and regulations.

An older officer approached Hannibal for a statement, taking careful notes of the altercation and what had happened at the concert earlier, before asking the doctor a rather poignant question.

“You sure you don’t want to file this as a ‘mating rights dispute’?”

Hannibal smiled, “We’re not quite courting yet so it might be presumptuous to do so.  But I hope after this we will be.”

If nothing else, the night gave Hannibal a small appetizer for his frustration.  Even the small altercation was enough to quell his anger momentarily.  But the Ripper was going to hunt down another pig before the night was over. 

As Hannibal was allowed to leave after his statement was taken, he made sure to pat the pocket of his tux to feel the stiffness of the business card held within.  

Heart versus mind indeed.

 

*****

 

Will left feeling intensely satisfied with the gala, more so than any model train explosion could convey.  At least that’s what he tried to tell his Uncle Gomez the next day at tea. 

His Uncle laughed, “It’s a lot like love: 2 movable objects colliding and their meeting being so explosive the world can’t help but take notice.”

His aunt refilled his cup, skillfully holding the teapot before placing it back on the tray.

“I think your Uncle is certainly on the right track.  Did you know when we met, he was betrothed to your Aunt Ophelia?  She fought many Alphas to claim your Uncle.  But when I met him, I couldn’t deny my own attraction to his scent.  Our families couldn’t help but notice our initial devotion to each other.”

“It could have been the suicide pact too,” Gomez quipped.

She laughed, “That and when Ophelia lost interest in you for a more compatible mate.”

Will smirked, “A more compatible mate that was suddenly put in her path?”

Morticia smiled in reply, “Sometimes, dear Nephew, the best battles are the ones you don’t need to fight.  Especially with family; it needs a delicate touch.”

Their exceedingly tall butler, Lurch shuffled in with several newspapers.  Gomez snatched up the Wall Street Journal, checking up on profiles written for some of his holdings.  Morticia picked up a copy of the Baltimore Sun, flipping to the society page.

“Oh, you look simply marvelous Will.  Your eyes look especially cadaverous.”  She looked at more of the photos, one caught her interest.  Will appeared to be speaking with a rather handsome man; she took careful note of the caption.  “Ah, I think I see the reason to your new state of happiness.  A Dr. Hannibal Lecter?  Gomez, don’t we know someone named Lecter?”

He peeked his head over his own newspaper, “Yes, Robertus Lecter.  He’s one of our trade partners in the French division.”

Will looked off to the side, “Hannibal’s his nephew...”

Morticia shared a look with her husband before returning her gaze to the page detailing the Hunger Relief Gala.

“And you disputed mating rights, lovely.  There are far too many Alphas that simply think they can do as they please without decorum.  How _gauche_.”  

“Cara mia,” Gomez whispered as he jumped up and lifted Morticia’s hand, kissing up her arm.

Will and his Aunt ignored it, continuing their conversation.

“You remind me so much of your mother sometimes William.  She was a lovely cousin to Gomez, always giving him good advice.  Let me give you some advice with courtship.”  She leaned as if to impart a secret, her arm still being kissed by Gomez.  “It’s always best if you let them come to you.”

From a small box on the table holding the tea service, the disembodied hand, Thing, rose clutching a small package.  He placed it on the table, smoothly sliding it towards Will.

“For me?  Thank you Thing.”  

With a quick wiggle of his fingers, Thing accepted the thanks before returning back down his box, closing his lid softly.

Will wasn’t used to receiving mail at the Addams’ house; most of it went to his house at Wolf Trap or even his office at Quantico.  It was different from something ordered, no plain brown box covered in tape.  It was giftwrapped in a lovely dove grey paper with a soft red ribbon tied in a neat bow.  His Aunt and Uncle both looked quite interested in it.  Knowing it’d be rude to wait, he untied the bow and slipped off the lid before stilling.

Inside, amid tissue paper, laid a crisp white handkerchief folded neatly.  But what was remarkable was the large blood stains on the white fabric and the scents Will could catch off of it.  That desperate scent, tinged with opiates wafted off the blood, now dark with oxidation, the rude Alpha from the gala.  But it was the other scent, the old blood scent with the musk of compatible Alpha that caught his attention. 

“Oh Darling, our Will has a suitor,” Morticia whispered, sounding near tears.

There were different ways to declare intent to court, some wrote love letters, others sent flowers, some just simply asked someone on a date.  But an older method was to deliver proof of the death of enemies.  It was a way to prove they could not only provide, but could protect as well.

Well, from interested to interesting, Will found himself firmly intrigued by Hannibal Lecter.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should feel bad for Hannibal, he doesn't know what kind of family he's getting involved in. XD


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For sku7314977 because you listen to me talk about this enough. And because the more we talk, the longer our stories get. XD

Will was, for once, relieved by an unexpected call from Jack Crawford.  It gave him an excuse to escape the near interrogation from his Aunt and Uncle and leave on the final note that no, he wasn’t getting married yet.  His Aunt Morticia was of the mindset that if two people were suitable, a drawn out courtship was wasted.  But Will didn’t feel comfortable enough accepting the inevitability of a marriage; he felt better just seeing where it progressed.  What did he really know about Hannibal besides he smelled pleasant? 

He never noticed the large mass of birds that left from the manor, following him into Maryland, before splitting off from his route.

As he drove over to the crime scene, Will took the time to refocus on his work.  As he parked, in a neighborhood that could easily be called upscale, he found himself reluctant to leave his _gift_ in the car.  Feeling ridiculous, he tucked it into his jacket, the small box snug in the pocket.  Making sure his glasses were in place, he made his way past the police tape to his Alpha boss, Jack Crawford.

“They’re nearly done photographing.  This is one looks like the Ripper, but I’m going to need you to confirm it.  It isn’t just messy, it’s like a horror movie in there.”

Will snorted, “I don’t know if that’s more critical of the Ripper or horror movies.” 

Jack gave him a sideways glance, “Excuse me for not caring much for the genre, I see enough of this at work.”

It wasn’t much later that Will was allowed into the living room.  Suspended from a crystal chandelier, high on a vaulted ceiling, were several chains that tied around the clasped and bound hands of a beta woman.  It was hard to discern her features; she was cut from beneath her chin down to her belly button.  Her head lolled backward, nearly severed.  But all he could focus on were the dozens of lilies carefully arranged in the open cavity of her torso, the white flowers grotesquely lovely against the red of the cut.  It would have been an interesting tableau in of itself, yet the Ripper never did subtle.  The intestines were carefully draped from her abdomen and stretched below the body, coiled in a pile beneath.  Half crushed and older brown-edged flowers laid scattered on the pile.

The scene came to Will quickly, the woman caught unaware, choked to unconsciousness before the Ripper cut in, enjoying the welling of blood from a still pumping heart.  The flowers showed care, not a drop of blood was on the petals, nor were they bruised.  Contrasting that to the pile of intestines beneath the body, he nearly laughed.

Finding Jack he asked the question that would let him verify his theory.

“What did she do for a living?”

His boss looked up, “She was a florist.”

Will only barely managed to drag a hand across his face to hide his smile.  A shitty florist. 

“He’s showing his superiority and what he thought of her.  Or at least her work; he thought it was shit.”

Jack sighed, “The Ripper?”

“Yes.  His displeasure is blatant, maybe not just humiliation.  It might have been personal.”

That seemed to get his Jack’s attention, “We might be able to catch a break.”  He looked back toward the house, “She has a home office, take a quick look around, if you see anything, I’ll have Katz dig into her financial records.”

 

*****

    

There wasn’t anything spectacular about her office, it was messier than anything else.  Receipts and order forms laid haphazardly around her desk, her computer didn’t reveal much more than more orders and emails from her floral suppliers.  He’d hate to say it, but he felt disappointed that such a boring woman had become a victim of the Ripper.  She was married to another beta, someone that was still at work and had to be contacted.  From what they gathered from neighbors, they were perfectly average people, perfectly average betas.  To be elevated to a Ripper creation, how had it happened? 

Will walked from her office to what looked like a workroom.  Flowers were in large buckets, some already wilting from too little water.  Tissue and ribbon were strewn across tables, scissors and cellophane laid against half crafted bouquets.  But what caught his attention was a certain shade of dove grey paper half unrolled.  Further down, mostly covered by half-dead sunflowers, laid a spool of soft red ribbon.

He felt the comforting weight of the box in his pocket.  He slipped it out for just a moment to confirm, before slipping it back in. 

Will walked out of that workroom, knowing he had a choice that wasn’t really a choice at all.  Catching Jack before he left, his voice didn’t waver.

“I don’t see anything to indicate any kind of connection.  Like the other Ripper victims, it still appears to be random.”

Jack nodded, as if it was a forgone conclusion, “We’ll catch him through evidence; one day he’s got to slip up.”

Will left back to his office in Quantico.  It never was a choice, not when he found the Ripper so fascinating.  He’d blame it on his Addams blood if he didn’t feel the rising heat on his cheeks remembering Hannibal in his tuxedo or his scent.

Now though, he could firmly hold the scent of the Ripper in his mind.  And that made this scene so much sweeter. 

Who didn’t like a little blood with their courting?

 

*****

 

Will tended to write his reports in the lab.  It was easy to remember what points of evidence he had to cover if they were right in front of him.  And, he took no small amount of amusement at hearing the forensics team fight over the finer points of a scene, often dragging him into it as the final say.  Jimmy Price was a beta that usually had to step in to calm his coworkers if they got carried away.  Beverly Katz, an omega, tended to get into heated debates with Brian Zeller, an Alpha, for the simple fact that sometimes they couldn’t agree to disagree. 

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that she usually won the arguments that dragged on either.

They were mostly cataloging what had been taken after the Ripper was confirmed as the likely suspect.  And with the large amount of flowers used, Jack wanted exact numbers to see if they had come from the florist’s stock. 

“Why white lilies?  Of all flowers, he chose the ones that are the most used at wakes.  Maybe he’s showing it’s a funeral?” Price asked as he catalogued the number of flowers pulled out of the woman’s torso.

“Flowers show care and regard and he didn’t think anything of her beyond the job she failed to fulfill,” Will added.

Beverly was on a laptop, “I checked her Yelp page and she wasn’t that good at delivering on time or providing flowers that weren’t damaged in some way.  The pool of disgruntled customers alone will be hell to sort through; no one was happy with her work.”

“Then why the hell was she still getting business?  That doesn’t make any sense, did you see her house?  It was huge.”  Zeller asked as he finished separating the rest of her intestines from her abdomen.

“That’s the thing.  Apparently she inherited the business and before, it was considered the best in Baltimore.  Her mother won all sorts of awards and had contracts with all sorts of organizations.  That’s what’s going to make this even harder…”  Beverly would have continued, if not distracted by something on her laptop.

“She’s missing her kidneys and liver,” Zeller stated as he finished cataloging.

Will added the detail to his report.

It was quiet until Beverly broke the silence.  “So, you know that Alpha psychiatrist Jack’s bringing on to help consult?  From Alana’s recommendation?  We’ve been running background checks and received an alert on him.”

Price scoffed, “What, a parking ticket?  Speeding in a school zone?”

“Nope.”  She glanced over the laptop screen at the room, “He tore out the throat of another Alpha.  Escalated Dominance Dispute.”

“Holy shit.  He’s old school then.  So…do you know if he’s single?”  Price held up a bunch of lilies and batted his eyelashes.

“Ha!  You’d have to fight for him.  From the way Alana makes it seem, he is the epitome of all Alphas.”

Zeller was throwing away his gloves, “You know what I think?  An Alpha like that just has something to prove.  So what, he can tear out a throat, big deal.  Let’s see him try just a regular date, and not deal with all this traditional bullshit.”

Beverly stopped her reading.  “Hey, that’s how my parents got married.  Just because you’re out just trying to find a hole for your knot doesn’t mean that everyone’s like that.”

“My grandmother did this courtship bullshit; we’re more modern now.  How do you even decide who to waste all that time on?”

“Scent, dumb ass.  Some people still use it for compatibility.  And courting can end amicably, it doesn’t mean you have to get married.”

Zeller rolled the body into cold storage.  “What, you want someone to just sniff after you and knock you up?  Live the Omegan dream Bev.”

She stood up abruptly, “Aww fuck you.  I’m not just some breeding bitch, but I’ll make you bleed, bitch.”

Price moved in having discarded counting lilies long ago.  “Children settle down…”

“No, it’s that sort of Alpha mentality that’s set back the Omega Movement.  Your knot is not my problem!”

Will sighed as they both started in on arguing louder, Price trying to calm them down.

He interrupted, “Beverly, what’s his name?”

She turned, “Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

Price laughed, “Oh God, who names their kid ‘Hannibal’?”

Trying not to laugh, Beverly continued, “No get this, he’s like, Hannibal the eighth or something.  The Lecters are an old family.”

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter the Eighth, Alpha extraordinaire,” Zeller tried out.

She added, “And, he’s a Count.  He probably gets roman numerals after his name, V-I-I-I.”

“He’s probably loaded too,” Price looked truly interested now, “Really though, you think he’s single?”

Zeller tried out the new name, “Count Doctor Hannibal Lecter…the Eighth.”  He rolled his eyes, “Sounds like a pretentious piece of shit.”  

“Better watch it Brian, he just might tear your throat out.”  Beverly cackled at how pale he got.

Will put his head in his hands to stifle the laugh.  If only they knew.

 

*****

 

Finishing his report would have to wait until the autopsy was completed.  He settled into grading in his office, getting a jumpstart on the week.  Will had nearly finished when he was startled by his cell ringing.  Not recognizing the number, he answered on a whim.

“Special Investigator Graham.”

A pleased hum came through before a familiar voice spoke, “Mr. Will Graham Addams, I called to ask if you’d be amicable to join me for dinner this evening?”

He leaned back in his chair, “Oh?  Any particular occasion Dr. Lecter?”

“Perhaps we can discuss my gift to you.”

A beat of silence passed.  “Which one?”

A soft laugh came through, “I suppose it comes down to a matter of personal taste.  And I am well known for my excellent sense of _taste_.”

Will dug through his desk drawer and pulled out an extra clip for his gun.

“What’s a little blood in courtship, Doctor?  Just let me know a time and place.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is going to unknowingly run into a few of the Addams family's pets. And he and Will both have dinner where they both know that they know, ooh~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever hate everything you write? That's been me lately. But it's here now, so yay~

Hannibal Lecter had a wonderful weekend.  The Gala had all but cemented the subpar florist’s fate.  The pathetic center pieces were a travesty.  Loyalty to a company was only worth it if the product was still stellar.  The event organizers had been far too lenient with their contracts, something Hannibal was happy to rectify. 

He felt productive and for once in a long time, he felt excited.  There were too many possibilities, too many options for him to ever become bored.  And it all hinged and centered on Will Graham.  The game was set, all that was left was to see what moves his opponent chose and act accordingly.  So enthusiastic for the possibilities, he had thumbed at his newest business card and scented it far more than would be socially acceptable.  But who would know in his brief moments of privacy that he coveted an Omega’s token?

And if he entertained the possibility more often than not, of coming home to such a pleasing Omega scent daily, who was to know besides himself?

Sometimes, he entertained the idea of that delicate scent permeated throughout the soft flesh of a severed thigh, the succulent meat served rare to preserve its taste.  He could dine on that Omega for weeks if careful enough.

Leaving his office for home, after such an enlightening phone conversation with Will, he noticed the oddest ruckus.  Along the parkway in front of his office, in the near bare trees, sat the largest amount of crows he’d ever seen congregated.  They were shrill and loud in their calls, dark feathers blending into merely dark shapes, making them look nearly like shadows.  As soon as he stepped out, the loud chorus of caws ceased and he had the most ridiculous feeling they were watching him.

Hannibal scoffed, that was almost as ludicrous as thinking that large bird across the street was indeed a vulture.

He drove home, never noticing the strange flock taking to silent flight in a calm fashion, a vulture at the rear.  

 

*****

 

Will arrived after 7.  He had enough time to head home, feed his dogs and clean up before heading toward Hannibal’s.  He brought a bottle of wine his Uncle had gifted him, knowing it would be of high quality, and drove over, thinking all the while the possible scenarios for the evening.  He knew it had to be some sort of trap; the Ripper was never one to leave evidence.  Now revealed as Hannibal Lecter, he had tied himself so neatly to a crime scene.  He must have known Will wouldn’t turn him in, the cockiness was near off-putting.  But Will couldn’t resist knowing more of the man with the pleasing scent, especially when he could make such beautiful things out of his victims.

Or perhaps as much as Will had intrigued Hannibal, the Alpha wanted to do the same to him in turn.

He parked out on the street, taking the wine bottle in hand.  He focused so hard on what could possibly await him, patting the side of his blazer for the familiar outline of his gun, he didn’t notice anything remiss.  A large thunk on his car had him turning to meet the eyes of a massive vulture, bald head and ruffle of feathers around the neck visible in the low light of the evening.

Will smiled, “Zelda,” he said affectionately as he stroked along the thick plumage along her wing.  She stretched out her long neck and nibbled on his fingers.

A loud caw above him had him look up toward the trees that lined Hannibal’s street.  Hidden by the darkness of the branches, sat dozens of crows.  Morticia’s murder of crows.

“And friends,” he added.  Soft caws responded, as if accepting his apology.

He knew his Aunt well enough to know that while mostly well meaning, she could also be terribly nosy.  She probably had her birds trailing Hannibal to figure out what sort of man was courting her nephew.  If only it had been a day earlier, she’d have cackled in glee at adding the Ripper to the Addams family.

She always did tend to jump to conclusions after all.  And a courtship was nearly a forgone conclusion in her mind. 

Glancing at the house, Will spoke quietly to his bird audience.  “There’s a lot of ways this could go, I’d appreciate it if you could keep an eye on things.”

Zelda gave a low screech with a sharper nip to his fingers before leading the flock to the trees surrounding Hannibal’s house.

Well, if it turned too pear shaped, he at least had a backup plan.

Better than none at all.

 

*****

Knocking and seeing Hannibal again was like that moment in the gala when he first caught his scent.  The door opened and Will found himself completely immersed in the aroma, rich and cloying, old blood saturated the doctor’s house.

It already smelled like home.

But he suppressed the rising affection.

“Dr. Lecter,” he said as he walked in.

“Hannibal please, Mr. Graham Addams.”  Hannibal tipped his head and if Will wasn’t mistaken, took the chance to inhale deeply as he walked passed.  The subtle dilation of his pupils told the empath he wasn’t the only one affected.

“Then by all means, call me Will.”  Hannibal smirked and nodded in acceptance. 

“I brought wine, although I wasn’t quite sure what we would be dining on, I could make a guess.”

The Alpha readily accepted the bottle, “A _Grüner Veltliner_.  Dry white wines do pair well with my preferred dishes.”

They shared a fleeting glance before Hannibal inclined his head once again with a smirk and led the Omega through his house.

Striding through the rather opulent house, Will bit his lip as he took in the décor: macabre and dark; animal horns, older antiques, classical art, a harpsichord Lurch would envy, as he was led through the living room toward the dining room. 

Home, it felt like the Addams manor; a house like a museum. 

The dining room that he was led to was much the same, horns on a fireplace mantle, preserved butterflies among feathers, _Leda and the Swan,_ a wall of vegetation.  His Aunt would love that wall.

“Please, have a seat Will.  Dinner will be served shortly.”  He placed the wine bottle on the table.

Hannibal pulled out a chair to the right of the head of the table.  Will sat and took note of the centerpiece as the doctor left to the kitchen.  Flowers amidst small animal skulls, shells and feathers cradling cracked open pomegranates, arils spilling out.  Will chewed at his lip; this must have been why people placed such a high value on scent compatibility.  Hannibal’s aesthetic alone was perfect to him, absolutely perfect.       

He looked down at the silver charger plate in thought.  He just might regret killing Hannibal if it came down to it.

 

*****

 

Hannibal nearly ran to the kitchen once Will was seated.  He took deep breathes of the food scented air to clear his head.  As soon as he had met the Omega once again, the thought that he had over romanticized the night had vanished.  The scent was so easy to pick up, it was a rush of pheromones into his house, that rich sweet scent.  The mixing of it with his own as the Omega entered his house smelled delightfully exquisite; something indefinable and that could only be labeled as _his_.  He supposed instinctual responses had their place, but bringing Will deeper into his house, preparing to feed him, made him feel like the pinnacle of an Alpha.  Was that what it felt like to have an Omega?  Feeling pleased to simply take care of him?     

He pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand, plating.  He added a light sprinkle of chopped parsley to their plates before taking them out to the dining room.  He placed their dinner on the chargers and opened the gifted wine.  Will offered his glass, and Hannibal poured.

“We’ll be dining tonight on sautéed veal kidneys _alla Diavola_ in a wine reduction sauce.  _Bon Appétit._ ”

Settling in across from the Omega, he noticed Will’s initial hesitance at eating.  He had cut a small piece off and appeared to be carefully scenting it.

“I didn’t poison you Will.  I wouldn’t do that to the food.”

Those lovely blue eyes flicked up to meet his own.  “Just wondering if the meat takes on characteristics of its surroundings.”  He ate the small piece and chewed slowly, his eyes slipping closed and a soft moan escaping him.

When his eyes opened again, he met the doctor’s, “This is delicious.  I can detect faint _floral_ undertones.”

Hannibal was pleased that at least he was sitting for this conversation.  The consumption, fully knowledgeable of what it was, nearly had him scrambling to the Omega to hold him down and bite along that lovely neck.

The doctor cut into his own piece, taking his time to savor the light spicy taste to the wine sauce.  “Yes, the veal was a product of its surroundings.  Perhaps a bit too fatty in the last few months of its life.”

Will took a sip of wine, “Is that what led to its culling?  Greed?”

Hannibal took up his own glass and swirled it lightly, “Among others, most notably, lack of decorum.”

A look of understanding crossed the Omega’s face.  “Rudeness then.  A lack of simple civility.  If they can’t follow the rules of common courtesy, there’s nothing separating them from livestock.”

The doctor smirked, before drinking his wine.  What a truly amazing mind.

They both resumed eating, Will savoring each bite and Hannibal watching avidly.

“If we are what we eat, does that make you more human than most?” Will quipped as he ate another piece of _veal_.

He huffed a soft laugh, “A humanitarian at its most literal?” 

The Omega looked to be holding in a smile, just barely, “One has to wonder, if there’s anything a _humanitarian_ would do to continue along his path.”

“One would think that the path was left unobstructed when an omission was made.  Freedom and choice are very close things, and both were assured when you kept my path clear.” 

“Bit of a gamble, what was to keep me from ending your freedom?”

Hannibal leaned back with ease in his chair.  “Pure curiosity; the fall of man.  Why do we do anything?  Sometimes, simply because we can.  You could have stopped me but you didn’t; you even had evidence delivered to you that could have done so, wrapped neatly with a bow.  But you want to see Will.  You want to see how far this path goes.”

“As an observer or participant?”

“Perhaps by my side,” he replied with a tilt of his head.

“Rather presumptuous Dr. Lecter.  You might not even be my type.  I don’t find you that interesting.”

“You will,” the Doctor said with full conviction.

That seemed to make the Omega pause.  “I’ve made it this long without being mated, what makes you think you’re special?”

Hannibal smirked with every bit of confidence he had felt growing throughout the evening.  “You simply hadn’t met me before.”

Will seemed irked by the cavalier attitude.  He offered his own in turn, “I suppose the inverse is true as well; you’ve remained unattached because you hadn’t met me before.”

“Precisely.”  There was no more need for games when they were both on the same page now.  Will knew enough to know what he was getting into.  The fact that he had let Hannibal remain free and accepted the dinner invitation was quite telling. 

“We can factor in scent compatibility to a degree, but who’s to say that we even like each other as people?  So far, I’m not impressed by your arrogance.”  Will finished off his wine in a rather large gulp.

Hannibal leaned forward, “That, dear Will, is the purpose of courting.  I retain your company exclusively until we’re either certain we’re a good match or that I find I have no recourse but to remove you from my path.”

Will snorted.  “Love or death, the only options?”

“Just like life.”

Those lovely blue eyes met his in a direct manner, poignantly focused and with a subtle hint of that Omega he had encountered at the gala; confident and refined with an elegant violence underneath.  “You should keep in mind that I reserve the right to kill you if I find you too dangerous.”

The Alpha took up his wine glass and tipped it in Will’s direction.  “What’s life without a little danger?”

“Living, I suppose.”

“Touché,” and Hannibal could drink to that. 

 

*****

 

He had been mildly surprised when Will had helped him in clearing the table.  Hannibal had insisted as his guest, it wasn’t necessary, but Will managed to take up his own plate and wine glass before looking at him poignantly.  With a sigh, he led the Omega to the kitchen, placing the dishes in the sink to deal with later. 

Will quirked an eyebrow as he did the same.  “I figured you were one of those people that washed everything as soon as possible.”  He gave a poignant glance around the spotless kitchen.

“I do have a rather…particular manner, but I find current company far more intriguing.” 

It was a quiet moment in his most favorite place of his house, with the only Omega to truly hold his attention.  And in that moment, he could scent not only compatibility, but arousal; a deeper note to the sweet scent that he had memorized from that business card.  The last of his restraint broke and Hannibal pressed against Will, caging him against the counter, finally giving in to his instinct to _taste_. 

Hannibal had a tendency for greed; he surrounded himself with lovely things and enjoyed his earned decadence.  This was much the same, an unrivaled greed for the feel of the agent beneath him.  The doctor pressed a harsh kiss along the Omega’s soft mouth, taking the time to catalogue the chapped texture, before he crowded and pressed his hips and growing hardness against Will.

He should have perhaps thought out his actions more fully.  One moment, he could feel the agent pressing back, licking into his mouth, the next he thought he heard a something---against the window? 

Will bit harshly against Hannibal’s bottom lip, lapping at the trickle of blood, eyes heavily lidded as he drew away, licking the remaining blood from his own lips.  Hannibal would have drawn back more fully if he didn’t feel a gun barrel following a trek up his thigh to trace the outline of his cock.

“I think, Dr. Lecter, that you’re one of those Alphas used to getting their way.”  The gun pressed harder against his erection, which hadn’t abated in the slightest.  Hannibal was still intensely fascinated, perhaps even more so by Will’s aggressive actions.  “In fact, I think I need to remind you that I have an Alpha kill count,” that gun traced a trail up his torso, along the tendons of his neck, until it rested underneath his chin, tilting his face sharply to the side.

Will leaned in closer, that sweet scent all the better with the scent of spilled blood still in the air.  “They were those sorts of Alphas too, but they never understood that I am a firm believer in my family’s motto: _Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc._ ”  The gun barrel traced along Hannibal’s jaw line, as a light caress.

It was a perfect moment, one that Hannibal couldn’t help but take as further proof that this Omega was his.  The blood remained stained along the fine creases of Will’s lips, a look that the Alpha would like to see far more in other circumstances.  A tandem kill perhaps, and if he was lucky, it wouldn’t be a long wait.

“‘We gladly feast on those who would subdue us’,” the doctor murmured, burgundy eyes bright and focused on the agent.  “You must excuse my eagerness dear Will.  I’ve waited this long for a mate, and when I’ve finally found you, you’re every bit as extraordinary as I could hope.  You’re a possibility for a true partner in every sense of the word.”

Will was startled for a moment, the sharp press of the gun against Hannibal’s jaw relaxed, enough that Hannibal, with a tilt of his head brought the barrel against his mouth.  He looked coyly at the Omega as he lapped at it, mouthing down the metal shaft and slide before bringing the end of the gun into his mouth, nearly succeeding in wrapping his lips fully around it.

“Jesus,” Will pulled the gun away quickly, “That’s how people get their heads blown off.”  He looked away for a moment as he holstered his gun underneath his blazer. 

“What’s life without a little danger?  And I fully expect our courtship to have not a small amount of it.”  He smirked, which got broader at Will’s small smile.

 

*****

 

Hannibal escorted Will out not long after.  The profiler could honestly say that on his second trip through the house, he didn’t pay quite as much attention to the décor.  He was focused entirely on Hannibal, for conflicting reasons.  The night may not have gone as he had fully expected, murder attempts or an attack as soon as he entered, but he was nonetheless unsettled.  He knew fully what he had been getting into, a cannibalistic serial killer that he had professionally appreciated more than he’d care to admit.  But the forthright manner the doctor had presented how they should proceed, how intent he was throughout dinner, it unearthed that small bit of Omega pride within himself.  Will, the strange Omega that could unsettle his coworkers with how concise and accurate his profiling was, the Omega well onto his way to middle age, yet he had captured Hannibal’s attention.  Something about being wanted and pursued when you were just as interested in the other person significantly changed the dynamic. 

At the foyer, Will was hyperaware of the hand offered to him upturned, he offered his own in turn, finding it odd that such a night would end with a handshake.  With a smooth twist of his wrist, the Alpha turned Will’s hand and bent down to place a soft kiss along his knuckles.

He blushed, an honest to God blush, what the hell.  Will turned his face away from Hannibal’s smirk, and coughed, “That’s not exactly how I anticipated leaving this.  I was half sure one of us would end up covered by a white sheet.”

“We didn’t quite make it that far, but the events were no less pleasing,” Hannibal said as he ran his thumb over Will’s knuckles.  The Doctor was pulling out all the moves this evening and all his lines apparently.

The Omega had a thought, “I suppose we might be seeing each other more if your consulting for the FBI works out.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see a hint of teeth from the Alpha, “Rather serendipitous; we would have met one way or another.”

Will pulled his hand back, “I think I better leave before you start saying we’re made for each other or are meant to be.”

“Naturally,” Hannibal opened the door ushering the agent out with a warm hand to his back, “Why state the obvious?”

With a soft sigh the profiler left, “Good night Hannibal.”

“Goodnight dear Will.  Drive safe.”  The doctor’s shadow was long against the walkway, touching his own until he reached the street.  Reaching his car, he could finally hear the door slowly close; such a proper Alpha.

As he unlocked his car door, he heard soft cawing, near enough to laughter for him to know that Morticia’s crows had witnessed far more than he was comfortable with.

The harsh warble let him know that Zelda was nearby as well.  “I know that was you tapping on the kitchen window.”  She was just as nosy as his aunt.

Buckling in, he heard a sharp tap to his back window in response before seeing the large flock leave, a mass of shadows nearly indistinguishable from the night, headed toward the Addams manor.  Will started the car and headed back to Wolf Trap, all the while, trying not to think about Hannibal’s lingering scent.

Or the phone call he was sure to get from his aunt in the coming days.

 

*****

 

Morticia took her time to finish her flower arrangement.  Reading about the latest Ripper case had greatly inspired her to add more floral displays throughout the house.  Why not appreciate something as fleeting as a bouquet when presented with such an elegant _momento mori_?  She finished cutting the last rosebud from the stem, terrible things, and arranged the most perfectly thorned stems in a vase.  They had the most gloriously lush leaves, their rough spiked edges really brought out the thorns if she thought so herself.

A rustle of feathers caught her attention.  Her vulture perched on the edge of the table.

She held the large pair of scissors to the neck of a rose, “Zelda darling, how is the Doctor treating our nephew?”  She snipped the head off.

Several chirps and warbles later, Morticia smiled, “That good?”  She had to start planning then.  She fully expected an Addams wedding by the end of the year. 

 

*****

 

Will went to work still feeling slightly out of sorts.  He held his lectures, he finished up some grading in between classes, but he felt a lingering sense of unease.  It mostly came down to one lingering doubt he still held.  He had been alone for so long; he had tried dating and found it as disastrous as he hoped it wouldn’t be.  His latest misadventure had been with the lovely Dr. Bloom, a fellow Omega.  Will wasn't quite sure where it had gone wrong, she had seemed to be receptive, hell, she had even responded to him when he’d kissed her.  Naturally, she had given him a list of reasons on why it was such a bad idea to date, most notably her inability to keep her professional curiosity out of her personal affairs.  But what had hurt the most was her flippancy toward dating another Omega. 

“It wouldn't go anywhere Will.  I can only see myself with an Alpha long term.”

It was a perfectly acceptable response he knew, Alpha-Omega pairs still prevalent amongst those designations.  But he had thought, and maybe hoped that it wouldn't matter to her.  Now, he had been left with an awkward professional relationship with someone that had, through no fault of her own, made him realize he was probably bound to be alone.

A few weeks after that awful realization that he had self-medicated with several bottles of cheap whiskey, he found himself most notably at the complete opposite of that spectrum.  He had a chance, a true chance with finding a partner.  He really hadn't anticipated getting invested so quickly, but it had happened as his aunt had predicted, ‘the nose knows.’  It left him feeling a dichotomy of emotions, and rather unsettled even at work.

He should have guessed that his lunch wouldn't be a simple affair.  Will walked along the hallways of Quantico and caught the faint hint of old blood that he was nearly sure that he had memorized, before he saw Hannibal.  The Alpha looked undeniably pleased, he had most likely been tracking Will by scent. 

“I had been hoping to find you.  I was finalizing some paperwork with Agent Crawford for my employment with the FBI.”

For a brief moment, Will allowed himself to bask in the momentary relief from his unease the closer he got to Hannibal, some innate sense that he was safest near him.  He was quick to shuck that thought by remembering what the Alpha was fully capable of.  It had nonetheless been a good feeling, but something he would never share with anyone.  By the still pleased look on Hannibal’s face, it was either mutual or he had sensed his change in demeanor.

“That was sooner than I had thought.”

Hannibal came up beside the Omega, nearly too close.  “I’m quite good at what I do, is it so surprising that my services are in demand?”

Will continued down the hall, already knowing Hannibal would follow alongside him.  “It’s not surprising at all; what’s surprising is how easily you were accepted even with that recent dominance dispute on your record.”

It wasn’t frowned on necessarily, but there was often a layer of extra scrutiny paid to someone who handled matters _traditionally._ For Hannibal to still pass, with all that Will knew of his hobbies, meant that the Alpha had a perfectly constructed life.  The Ripper hadn’t been caught because of the extra care Hannibal gave to outward appearances, something that had even passed the scrutiny from the head of the BAU.  It was a pleasant thought.  Mostly because someone so exceedingly intelligent was behind the cases that he found the most intriguing.  And that such a man could be his if he wanted.

“You sound nearly disappointed.  I assure you that Agent Crawford was quite thorough in his questioning.”  Hannibal kept pace beside him, bumping shoulders too often to be accidental. 

“Disappointed because my boss relies too heavily on facts and not on possibilities.  There’s a point when something is too perfect, works too well for it to be possibly real.  And I think whatever you present to others falls into that.”

The Alpha gave a pleased hum, “One could say that you’ve paid me quite the compliment; that I’m too perfect to possibly be real.”

The Omega sighed, “Please don’t.  I can’t handle your charm at this time of day.”

“Which reminds me why I was seeking you out.  I brought lunch, if you are amicable.”

Will glanced off to the side and did indeed see Hannibal carrying a small cooler at his side.  He had been on his way to his office, not necessarily to eat, but a few aspirin and some coffee counted for something.

“I suppose; I don’t typically have much time to eat between my class work and Jack’s cases.”

That received a rather critical look from the Doctor.  “You must take better care of yourself Will.”

So bossy already.  “Yes _Dad_.” 

The soft laugh was unexpected.  “If that’s something you wish to explore in the bedroom, William.”

“ _Hannibal_?”

Their brief walk was interrupted by the shocked voice of Alana Bloom from behind them.

As both men turned to regard her, Will could see the confusion on her face.  She must have caught the tail end of that conversation.  And if by the way she kept focusing on Hannibal was any indication, she didn’t only consider Alphas for long term relationships.  But a particular one.

Well fuck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Will, you're part of a soap opera: Cannibal M.D.


End file.
